The Uncomfortable Truth
by megreadsthings
Summary: LBD verse. Just what was in Lizzie's browser history that she didn't want to show the audience?


**A/N: Oh god. I'm still not sure if I've recovered from Episode 97 yet. Will I ever? Time will tell. Anyway, it got me wondering - just what exactly is in Lizzie's browser history that she doesn't want us to see? I guess you could consider this a companion fic to the very first one I wrote (A Glass Of Scotch And A Tear Stained Bear) because, well, there are similarities. You don't have to though. I own nothing and no one, not even Darcy (unfortunately).**

Rolling over in bed, Lizzie glanced at the clock on her bedside table and groaned. She had overslept _again_. Not that she had any particular reason to be waking up early, but how could she keep pretending that her life was coming together when she couldn't even get out of bed before 11am? She stretched and swung her legs out from under the covers, stopping when her feet came in contact with something smooth and hard and distinctly un-carpet like. Her laptop. _Dammit_. It must have slid from the bed after she had fallen asleep last night. Lifting it out of her way, she shuffled off toward the bathroom.

* * *

After a long shower, Lizzie was back in her room ready to get dressed and get on with the day. Except… it felt like the laptop was staring at her. Sighing, she nudged the track pad to wake it up and turned to her closet to search for an outfit. Eventually she settled for a plain navy dress, pulling it from the hanger with perhaps a tiny bit more force than was necessary. Never mind, she was being purposeful today. And she was purposefully _not _going to spend the day poring over the internet like yesterday. (Or the day before that. _Or _the day before that.) Yes, today she was going to do things and talk to people and be productive. With clothes on, hair done, make up on and a smile on her face she turned – only to jump nearly a foot in the air. William Darcy was staring at her. Or, rather, his picture was staring at her from the computer screen. Lizzie rushed over to get rid of it before somebody came bursting through the door (she may have mellowed out after recent events, but Lydia had managed to maintain her knack for barging in whenever Lizzie was up to something. It was like she just _knew_).

Lizzie sat on her bed and sighed again. Once more, she had fallen asleep while "researching" William Darcy. She could try to kid herself that it was all background information she needed for her independent study on Pemberley Digital but really, what kind of thesis project required her to do a Google image search for pictures of a CEO during his time on the Harvard diving team? She was pathetic and she knew it. It was written plainly in front of her across all the Darcy-related tabs open in her browser. His twitter page, frustratingly neglected since their San Francisco tour. Pemberley Digital's website. Google search for William Darcy. An article linked from that search. Google search for apartments in San Francisco. Jobs in San Francisco (any jobs – apparently in the middle of the night she was so desperate to be near him again it didn't matter if she was clearing tables for minimum wage. Something was really wrong with that). The last one was another Google search – "Lizzie Bennet William Darcy". Surprisingly, after their Twitter pages and her videos, one of the first things to come up was fanfiction. She knew it existed, of course, and she had read some that were pretty good, but she hadn't realised it was quite so popular. Curiosity got the better of her, and she clicked the link.

* * *

_Wow_. This was ridiculous. She remembered something she had said in the videos back at Netherfield – "…epic fanfiction, go nuts! But with Darcy? _You_ are nuts!" In fairness, they had followed her instructions… in a sense. While most of the stories _were _about her and Darcy, very few of them involved any "epic adventures". Unless, of course, you counted love, marriage and parenthood as an epic adventure. Until now, Lizzie definitely wouldn't have, but she had to admit that some of these stories made it sound kinda nice. Because she definitely hadn't thought about it before. Nope, not even once. Never. Most of the writers seemed to have the same ideas about how the relationship should progress: they would meet again, on camera of course, and inevitably kiss (Lizzie felt herself actually pouting as she thought of that scenario. _No. Stop it._) He would offer her a job at Pemberley Digital, she would move in with him and a few years later they would get married and start having babies. Four seemed to be the general consensus. Four? Really? Four babies? _Ouch_. Of course, there were also the more… mature fics, the ones that detailed how exactly those four babies came into existence. Lizzie did feel a bit weird about reading those, but at the same time she _had _wondered how it would feel to have his hands on her body, his mouth on her neck…

"Hey, Lizzie!" Charlotte called, knocking on the door as she pushed it open.

"Charlotte! Hi!" Lizzie quickly slammed her laptop closed and pushed it away from her. Charlotte was immediately suspicious.

"What are you doing?"

"Nothing! I was just… doing some research! I could use a break, why don't we go for coffee?"

"What were you researching?"

"N- nothing. Thesis. Boring stuff, you don't wanna hear about this!"

"Uh, yeah, I do. No one looks this guilty over _research_, unless they're _researching_ something dirty or illegal."

"It's nothing illegal!" Lizzie cried; realising her crucial omission as a smirk crossed Charlotte's face. They both lunged for the laptop at the same time.

"OW! That's gonna leave a bruise, you know!" Lizzie sulked as Charlotte darted to the other side of the room, laptop in hand. Sitting at the desk, she opened the lid and quickly typed Lizzie's password.

"_Wow._" Lizzie buried her face in a pillow. "You have _got_ to do something about this."

"Like what?" Lizzie's muffled voice shot back, "I already called him. No answer. I think that speaks very loud volumes."

"It hasn't been that long. Maybe he's just nervous."

"Ugh. Can we not talk about this? Let's just go get some coffee and _please, change the subject_."

"Fine. I'm giving you a pass for today. I just hope you know you're pathetic."

"I know. Can we never speak of this again?"

"We can try. No promises though."

Lizzie rolled her eyes and grabbed her friend's arm to pull her out of the door. Pausing outside, she turned back to shut down the computer before she left. She wasn't taking any more chances with that uncomfortable truth.


End file.
